


an image of my brokenness, utterly worthy of love

by silpium



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, M/M, content warnings in opening notes!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:13:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21551326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silpium/pseuds/silpium
Summary: Hinata has known that he was in love with Kageyama since their second year and probably has been for even longer than that. It doesn’t settle all nice and sweet like love is supposed to, though—it festers like an open wound and hurts just the same as one, because Kageyama will never, ever look at him that way.Or: Hinata has long since learned that love is not for someone like him. Kageyama disagrees.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 9
Kudos: 498





	an image of my brokenness, utterly worthy of love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TakeMyUsernameAlready](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakeMyUsernameAlready/gifts).



> please note that there is a heavy focus on child abuse in this fic! there is little depiction of it, but the trauma thereof is heavily explored. 
> 
> this is a commission for selina! they requested third-year kagehina with a focus on hinata feeling unworthy of love, heavy angst in the beginning that shifts to fluff. :') i hope that you enjoy!!

Lately, Hinata’s eyes have been endlessly drawn to every little aspect of Kageyama. His gaze gets stuck on the callouses of Kageyama’s hands—are they as rough as they seem, or deceptively soft? Are his hands ticklish and sensitive, like Hinata’s, or dulled from years of rigorous practice?

Then, invariably, he moves onto all the features of Kageyama’s face—if Hinata were to kiss him, would his eyes light up in surprise, then sparkle in unspoken satisfaction? Would he gasp, blushing ever-so-slightly as Hinata fisted his hand in the back of Kageyama’s shirt? Would his lips curve into the tiniest of smiles, hidden and uncertain? Even better—maybe he’d grin, unabashed and loud, unable to hold back his happiness.

This isn’t anything new. No, Hinata’s had his mind wander traitorously like this since their first year. The intensity of it ebbs and flows, but that prickly yearning never quite goes away.

It’s not that Hinata wants to entertain these thoughts. For all his fantasizing, Kageyama will never—could never—look at him the same way, and that knowledge sears his heart until it just might be nothing but ash anymore. Imagining what it might be like only makes it worse, but he can’t help the fluttery thoughts that seize him, so hopeful, as if they’re trying to brush away the ashes and renew him.

It doesn’t work. Brushing away the ashen layer only reveals that the burns run far deeper than the surface.

/ * \

Hinata has known that he was in love with Kageyama since their second year and probably has been for even longer than that. It doesn’t settle all nice and sweet like love is supposed to, though—it festers like an open wound and hurts just the same as one, because Kageyama will never, ever look at him that way.

The worst thing is when he starts wondering if maybe he’s wrong. Yeah, Kageyama cares for him, but to think that Kageyama could ever love him to any degree is foolish.

Even so, there’s no helping how Hinata’s heart sparks whenever Kageyama genuinely smiles or when their hands brush together, but he has those things under control. It’s when Kageyama defies expectations that Hinata runs into problems.

Now that they’re in their third year, Kageyama’s not quite so afraid to show his skin. Oh, he’s still a total jerk most of the time, but nowadays it’s not so rare for Kageyama to slap Hinata on the back and murmur _nice receive_ or randomly buy Hinata a pork bun just because or let the worry underlining his voice seep through when he yells at Hinata for overworking himself.

Hope is something Hinata doesn’t have under control: each and every one of those things turns the spark into a smoldering fire, ready to burst into flames. But just as fire can be just as destructive as it is healing, hope isn’t something Hinata wants.

/ ~ * ~ \

Hinata has been skittish around Kageyama lately, all darting eyes and jerky movements. Or, well—it’s a bit more subtle than that, enough that someone other than Kageyama wouldn’t notice. The distance that Hinata keeps immediately putting between them whenever their fingers brush or their arms bump into one another’s on their walk home may be slight, but it’s blatant to Kageyama himself.

It’s not the first time Hinata has gotten anxious around him and it probably won’t be the last. Kageyama’s gotten used to these phases. Still, Kageyama is miles and miles away from Hinata during these times with no way to bridge that gap, because they come and go seemingly without reason, regardless of what Kageyama does or says. It stings, because, well—Kageyama’s been in love with Hinata since the tailend of their first year and probably a little longer.

It’s totally embarrassing. Hinata would never let him live it down if he confessed. If Kageyama’s being honest, though, and he’ll only admit this to himself—it’s no surprise that this happened as it did. Stupid, brazen Hinata, trusting him 100% with his call of _I’m here!_ and endless, bright chattering about _how amazing that toss was, Kageyama, oh my gosh! Did you see how perfectly I spiked it?_ —it only makes sense that Kageyama would fall in love with someone like that.

So, yeah. Kageyama is an old hand at loving Hinata by this point. The lines are blurry, though, in what they are and what Kageyama wants them to be—they’re friends, but are they more or less than best friends? Does Kageyama even want to risk changing that?

So Kageyama contents himself with what he already has: the memory of Hinata’s hand in his whenever Hinata needs to drag him somewhere, the various smiles he shoots at Kageyama (cocky when he beats Kageyama at something, brilliant when Kageyama compliments him, uncertainly soft when Kageyama lets affection slip through his rough exterior), the quintessential belonging. Even through those bursts of nervousness that Hinata has, it’s enough—more than enough.

/ * \

Usually, Hinata’s skittishness lasts a few days, maybe a week at most. That’s what has Kageyama nervous himself, now: Hinata’s been putting distance between them for almost a week and a half. It’s more than the flinching when their hands brush and the mediated space between them as they walk. There’s an emotional distance, tangible and disconcerting in its presence.

Sure, Hinata will laugh along with what Kageyama says, chatter aimlessly about this and that, but there’s something off about it now. Even when Kageyama tries to rile him up, talking about how he’ll definitely do better than Hinata in the upcoming matches or reminding Hinata how he’s been beating Hinata lately in their daily race to school—there’s nothing. Hinata just lets it slip by without a word, sometimes just forcing a smile. By now, Kageyama can tell, easily, when Hinata’s smiles are real and when they’re not.

Even when he does smile, like when he spikes Kageyama’s tosses, he doesn’t smile as wide, either. It’s still just as satisfying, at least to Kageyama, but when Kageyama turns to Hinata with a grin, the smile on Hinata’s face is lackluster and dim.

Kageyama isn’t sure what’s caused the change. Nonetheless, there’s a ravine—impossibly deep, impossibly wide—firmly entrenched between them. 

At first, he thinks maybe it’s something with him, that maybe Hinata’s figured it out or gotten sick of Kageyama’s constant badgering. But then he notices that Hinata’s shying away from the rest of the team, too, flinching under their praise and attention. Even the endearing antics of the first-years and second-years can’t pull a real smile out of Hinata.

It makes Kageyama’s stomach churn, a disgustingly empty sensation filling it. Kageyama’s never seen him like this, even in his worst moments. 

Hinata shouldn’t be like this, ever. Hinata should be smiling, laughing, _happy_ , talking everyone’s ear off and then some. Right now, he is none of those things.

/ ~ * ~ \

Hinata doesn’t like going home. Most days are okay—most days, he manages to sneak up to his room without his mother noticing that he’s gotten home from afternoon practice, or maybe some days she just doesn’t care enough to do anything.

But then there are the bad days, the days when something’s riled his mother up and she’s waiting for him, unavoidable, in the living room. Her words then— _you can’t even be bothered to spend a little bit of time with me? I’m your mother. I raised you. I’ve given you everything I have, and all you do is burden me in return_ or _look, if you hate me, why don’t I just send you to live with your miserable excuse of a father? You two would go well together, anyway_ —wrench his gut, because she’s right. It’s true. 

She’s given him so, so much, yet—he doesn’t feel love for her, not at all. No, instead, visceral fear churns in his gut every time she speaks, every time she moves in his direction. That’s not love. That’s not what he should be feeling. And the disgust thereof spreads like a poison throughout him—what kind of son can’t even love his mother? What kind of son can’t even be loved by his mother?

/ * \

For all Hinata may be able to love, there is nobody who could love Hinata in return. Love is just not for someone like him. Hinata knows this, should have known this, yet hope still adamantly filtered through him whenever Kageyama smiled at him a certain way.

That hope has no place now, though. The harsh and sudden way it gets quelled within him stings worse than Hinata ever thought possible. It was stupid to even consider that Kageyama could like him back, much less love.

He doesn’t even realize how much he’s retreated into himself until Yamaguchi stops him as he’s leaving practice one day. Of course Hinata’s noticed Kageyama’s gaze on him and the way Kageyama’s gotten so hesitant around him, but that distance is good. It lets Hinata move on, forces him to. He’s far too preoccupied to really think about the why, even if the distance still makes his chest ache.

Yamaguchi’s grown in confidence over the years and since he’s become captain of the team, but, almost parallel, he’s grown in his kindness, too. Hinata can’t gauge his expression even as he begins to speak. “You’ve seemed pretty down lately.” It’s not accusatory. “Do you want to talk about it? We’re all here for you, you know.”

“Ah, no!” Hinata says quickly, a knee-jerk reaction. “It’s—I’m fine, really.” Dread flickers through him—has it really been so obvious? Has everyone noticed?

“You don’t seem fine.” Another thing Yamaguchi has learned: how and when to push.

Hinata averts his gaze for a moment before looking back at Yamaguchi. “I’m just kind of stressed lately, I guess.” Putting on a smile, he continues, “It’s fine! It’ll pass.” 

Yamaguchi hums. “It’ll pass quicker if you take advantage of your support systems, though. You know, why don’t you hang out with Tsukki and I tonight? We were planning to play some video games together at my house. It’s the kind of genre you’d like, actually.”

Hinata’s going to say no. He’s going to say no, because he doesn’t deserve it, because this invitation is out of pity. Even so: “Yeah, that sounds really nice.”

Despite everything, Hinata enjoys himself. Throughout the night, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima consciously make space for him, never making him feel like a third wheel—no inside jokes, no conversations meant for just them. 

Even Tsukishima seems happy to have him there. That’s not to say that Tsukishima’s changed much—he’s still a massive asshole most of the time, even now. His insults have lessened in their edge, though, gaining more of a begrudging fondness. Neither of them talk about it, but nowadays when Tsukishima calls Hinata out for being born with half a brain, Hinata has to hold back his laughter before replying in faux anger.

Hinata’s genuinely wanted, welcomed. Believing that is the whole issue, though. He believes they care for him, believes in their affection, and can’t find any reason to not believe as much.

But it can’t be true. It just can’t be. Even if they care for him now, eventually, they’ll come to their senses, because—nobody could love Hinata in return.

/ * \

Hinata should’ve expected this. Kageyama is too stubborn to go along with anything he dislikes—he’ll fight tooth and nail before he acquiesces.

So that’s how they got here, Kageyama confronting Hinata at his bike after evening practice finished. They still walk home together each night despite how quiet Hinata’s been, probably because Hinata isn’t quite ready to leave it behind yet.

“What’s been wrong with you lately?” Kageyama asks as Hinata unlocks his bike. It’s sudden—Hinata’s fingers fumble with the lock. 

“Nothing,” Hinata says, too quickly. “What are you even talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about, dumbass.” Evident irritation seeps into his voice. “Everything about you lately has been weird.”

“Maybe you’re just imagining things.” It’s petulant and Hinata knows it, but if Kageyama gets him talking, there’s no knowing what Hinata will end up saying. He’s so carefully constructed the wall between him and everyone else, but Kageyama would see all the cracks in it, the tenuous foundation, and tear it right down if given the opportunity. It’s terrifying to the core.

Kageyama exhales—impatient, frustrated. “What, is it something you can’t trust me with? Is that it?” Hinata bites his lip, trying to figure out the best approach, when Kageyama continues. “So it is. Look, Hinata, you—you trust me in everything else, but you can’t trust me with this?”

It stings—Hinata wants more than anything else to be able to trust Kageyama with his heart, with himself. The hurt in Kageyama’s tone only makes it worse. 

“I want to,” Hinata is saying before he even realizes it, lips dry, breaths shaky. “I want to trust you.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Because—because—not everything is that simple! I can't just _trust you_ and expect everything to magically be fixed, because sometimes it just doesn’t work like that, Kageyama.”

Kageyama flinches. Silence encroaches over them for a moment, Hinata’s hands trembling. Then: “I’m… sorry,” Kageyama says at length. “I didn’t mean to…”

Hinata lets out a shaky exhale. “No, it’s—not your fault. I just… it’s not always so easy.”

Kageyama nods quickly. Hinata finishes unlocking his bike, and they walk home together in silence.

/ * \

Kageyama stays by Hinata’s side, not shying away from him at all. No, if anything, Kageyama sticks to him even more, and it—it becomes harder and harder for Hinata to accept that he’s unworthy of love, because Kageyama seems to think very much the opposite.

Kageyama’s never been the textbook definition of kind or considerate, but he’s doing it in his own brutish way. Lately, he’s been making all these tiny little gestures, like giving Hinata extra tosses when they practice together or letting Hinata win their rock-paper-scissors competitions about what to watch during their “study” sessions, that have been adding up. 

Kageyama just isn’t nice by nature. He doesn’t do these things for just anyone. So why is it Hinata, of all people, that he’s chosen to spend—waste—all his time and effort on? The worst part is that it’s working—Hinata can’t move on like this. 

Hinata can’t decide how he feels about it. On one hand, he hates it, hates the hope welling up in him again. On the other hand, he loves it, loves feeling appreciated, worthy.

But it begs the question—“Why’ve you been so nice to me lately? It’s super weird and creepy coming from you.”

It’s not that he means to ask it, even if the question has been crawling over his skin for days, weeks, now. Kageyama doesn’t seem perturbed by it at all, though, just looking up from his homework and glancing sidelong at Hinata as he asks, “Do I need a reason?”

“Well, yeah.”

Kageyama huffs. “Then it’s ‘cause you’re my partner.”

“You have to have something better than that.” Hinata stares down at his textbook, shifting uncomfortably.

“Do I? I think it’s good enough.”

“But I’m not—I don’t… There are so many other people you could be spending your time on,” Hinata can barely hear his own voice.

Kageyama’s gaze turns cold. “What do you mean?”

At length, Hinata says, a little louder, “I mean—I don’t… deserve that.”

Then Kageyama’s eyes gain an anger, a fire, and he’s speaking just as the words leave Hinata’s mouth. He turns in his chair to fully face Hinata. “Are you an absolute idiot? Of course you do. You think I’d waste my time with someone who didn’t have talent? Who doesn’t deserve to make it to the top?” 

“I just mean… I don’t know,” Hinata stutters, at a loss for words. People have said stuff like that about him, yeah, have complimented him to even further extents, but they’ve never said it with such fierce passion.

Kageyama frowns at him. “Well, all of that is bullshit, and you should know it. You’ve worked hard and deserve whatever comes from that.”

Kageyama drops it after that, but the stiffness doesn’t fade from his demeanor for hours. They’re about to fall asleep, each of them tucked in, when Hinata can’t help but ask, “Why do you care so much?”

Kageyama exhales tiredly. “I swear you weren’t always this stupid. Look, it’s—” He breaks off suddenly, silence encroaching for a moment, before he continues. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I care?”

And that’s because—because—

“You can’t really love anyone, can you?” Hinata murmurs, voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. “You know that means nobody will ever love you in return. My mother said that to me a few weeks back, and it’s stuck with me since.”

Kageyama inhales sharply, then there’s suddenly the noise of rustling sheets as Kageyama sits up. “That’s bullshit.” His voice cracks. “I…”

“It’s fine. I couldn’t really come up with an argument against it, either.” Hinata smiles to himself hollowly.

“No, you idiot, I—” Kageyama’s voice is strained, emotion dripping from it. “I care about you. A lot.”

“I mean, I know,” Hinata says, uncomfortable. “I just don’t get why.”

“Haven’t I proven it to you already?” Kageyama says gruffly. “That you’re someone worth caring about?”

“I mean—yes,” Hinata realizes, because Kageyama has. Kageyama has been unwaveringly by his side for months, years, now. Even through their worst times, Hinata could never find it in him to doubt that Kageyama cared for him. “But that doesn't mean that anyone could love me for real. That’s different.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Yeah, well, as far as I can see—”

“I do,” Kageyama says quietly. “Care for you like that, I mean.”

Hinata’s heart seizes, going numb. His voice shakes as he says, “I don't need your pity.”

“You think this is pity?” Kageyama’s voice turns to anger, ice-cold. “You think I—that I would tell someone I love them out of pity?”

“I didn't, but it’s not—you’re not—”

“Don’t screw with me, Hinata,” Kageyama hisses. “You know damn well that I wouldn’t—”

“Well, that’s the only explanation! Because—because…” Hinata takes in a shuddering breath as his throat closes up.

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? I don’t know what I need to say for you to understand that.”

“It just… doesn't make sense,” Hinata mumbles, eyes watering up as he desperately tries not to cry. “It’s impossible. Why would you ever…”

“You’ve never been concerned with possible or impossible before.”

And, yeah, Kageyama’s right. Hinata has never let something like this stop him before. But—

“I guess I’ve just… never considered anything else. My mother, you know, her form of love isn’t—what it should be. And she’s always danced around saying that nobody could love me, and then she went right out and said it, and I—it was like having my worst fears confirmed, yeah? Because who would know better than—”

“ _Anyone_ would know better, dumbass. You think she knows anything about you if she can’t even tell you the time of day?”

“I mean—”

“The answer is no,” Kageyama continues, testily. “One person too dumb to love you doesn’t mean shit, no matter who they are. You should know that.”

Hinata wants to believe Kageyama. He wants to believe Kageyama with all of his heart, wants to be loved and love in return, but there’s this wall between them, insurmountable, the peak of it lying far beyond view. But there’s something to Kageyama’s anger that’s chipping away at it gently, ever-so-slightly, and, eventually, maybe, it’ll make the foundations crumble away.

For now, though—“I’ll prove it to you,” Kageyama tells him. “Until you believe me beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

Hinata can believe in that much.

/ * \

Kageyama is, to be expected, not one to take promises lightly, but that’s not to say that he turns into a sappy, gooey mess around Hinata. Hinata still has to deal with the constant heckling and aggression, and he’s certainly not called a dumbass any less. But—now there’s something different.

Kageyama seems freer, now, maybe happier. Like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders. Hinata will catch Kageyama just looking at him from time to time with an indescribable expression on his face, the slightest of smiles, and it sends a spark through Hinata’s heart. 

Kageyama is looking at him like he’s something valuable, worthwhile, irreplaceable. Sure, whenever Hinata catches him, he’ll shift his expression into a scowl and tell Hinata he should be paying attention to the drill in practice or whatever. Still, that doesn’t erase the softness in his tone or the fact that Kageyama looked like that in the first place.

And—Kageyama opens up a bit more. Kageyama isn’t affectionate by any means, but he starts doing little things, reminiscent of his behavior after their fight. It’s much the same, but the thing is that Kageyama isn’t so furtive about it anymore, isn’t acting like it’s some big deal. It seems easier, more natural. 

And then, so, so rarely, he starts saying it, a reminder: “I love you.” It’s gruff and so quiet that Hinata barely catches it the first time he says it, thinks that it’s just the wind or something. 

Kageyama doesn’t say it often. Maybe once a week, every two weeks. Still, every time Kageyama says it, Hinata’s heart trembles so much that he thinks it might fall right out of his chest, both because of the force with which he wants to believe and the force with which he knows he can’t.

But then there comes a day—weeks, months later—when Kageyama says it as they’re parting as they walk home. There’s nothing particularly special about it or the preceding day. But when he says it, whispers _I love you, Hinata_ , something in Hinata shifts, and—

He wonders if maybe it’s true.

/ * \

Hinata replays it over and over again that night, analyzing every aspect of Kageyama’s voice, from the the tone to the hitch in his voice as he said Hinata’s name.

 _I love you, Hinata_.

If all of this isn’t love, then what is?

/ * \

Love is terrifying, yeah, but the team and Kageyama’s love specifically isn’t so bad. They may be vastly different kinds of love, but they’re similar in that they both don’t want any more of Hinata than he is or than he’s willing to give. It’s different from what he thinks of love as, but maybe this is what love is supposed to be. Maybe love doesn’t have to be what he’s so scared of.

Still, he doesn’t deserve love, especially not one so sincere; love just isn’t for someone like him. But the team disagrees. Kageyama disagrees. Now that Hinata’s held their love—tangible, human—in his hands, he starts craving it, be it Kageyama’s smile, just for him, or Yamaguchi’s supportive words, or the underclassmen’s admiring gaze.

He shouldn’t, though, and guilt wells up in him every time he catches himself yearning for any of those things. But as the weeks go on, the more he wonders if maybe it really is okay to want it. After all, if everyone else believes in him, why can’t he believe in himself?

/ ~ * ~ \

Hinata is smiling at Kageyama. That in and of itself is nothing special—what’s important is that the smile is genuine, bright, like normal. Even more startling is that Hinata is smiling at nothing in particular, not a super good toss or finding out his mother packed his favorite lunch, but at their mundane, pointless conversation.

It’s the only smile of that kind that Hinata has for the entire day, but it sticks with Kageyama, hope swirling around in his chest. Because that’s what Hinata is supposed to be like—grinning, teeming with happiness.

In the following days, Hinata gradually comes out of his shell. It’s instances like when Kageyama elbows him and says, “You know you’re gonna owe me some meat buns if you keep losing our bets,” and Hinata balks that give him hope.

Because Hinata glares at him, full of emotion, and retorts, “Stop being so cocky, you jerk! You’re the one who’s been cheating every day! I don’t have to buy you anything if I didn’t lose by any fault of my own!”

It’s so quintessentially _them_. It’s exactly what everything should be like. And, yeah, Hinata’s still struggling, still sometimes just doesn’t reply to things like that, still sometimes smiles all fake and hollow. But he’s coming along, slowly and surely, and that—that is enough.

/ * \

It’s sudden when Hinata takes Kageyama’s hand in his a few days later. Kageyama startles when it happens—Hinata has only ever shied away from affectionate displays, and lesser ones at that, getting this meek and unsure expression on his face whenever Kageyama complimented him or gave him a meat bun for no reason.

“You know you don’t have to do that, idiot,” Kageyama says. They’ve since talked about it and established that, yeah, Kageyama’s love isn’t just platonic. “I don’t—expect that sort of thing.”

Hinata glances up at Kageyama tentatively. “No, I—I want to.” At Kageyama’s frown, he continues, “I’m sure, you dummy. I’ve felt like this for… a long time.”

Kageyama’s heart skips a beat, because—Hinata’s never mentioned this before, maybe because he never felt quite secure enough to. Kageyama had long since resigned himself to his feelings being unreturned, and yet—it doesn’t seem real. It doesn’t seem real at all, and that’s why Kageyama asks, “How long?”

“Since, like, our second year. What, is this a test?”

“No, just wanted to know if I won. ‘Cause for me it’s been since our first year.”

“Oh, shut up,” Hinata mumbles without any real anger. “You’re such a jerk. You could at least try to look happy about this—”

“I mean, you haven’t confessed yet, have you?”

Hinata flushes scarlet red. Raising their hands in the air between them, he says, “This—this should be enough, idiot!”

Kageyama hums. “I still wanna hear it, though.”

“Ugh, _fine_ —” Hinata groans. “I… I like you, Kageyama. There. Is that good enough for you?”

A smile breaks out on Kageyama’s face, unbidden. Hearing Hinata say those words, how they resonate in his chest, bouncing around furiously—it’s a dream he thought would never come true. But, no, Hinata—Hinata likes him, likes him back for real, and… 

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Kageyama doesn’t stop smiling the whole way home, savoring the warmth of Hinata’s hand in his, the soft way their skin brushes against one another’s, and Hinata doesn’t say a word about how scary his smile probably is.

/ * \

Kageyama invites Hinata over for a sleepover a few days later. When they’re up in Kageyama’s room together, sitting on Kageyama’s bed as they watch some terrible movie, Hinata keeps skittishly looking to and from Kageyama, not being secretive at all.

“What’s the issue, dumbass? Did you forget where the bathroom is or something?”

“No! No, you idiot, I—” Hinata breaks off suddenly. “Um. It’s nothing.”

“I’m not stupid enough to believe that.”

“Sometimes you seem like you are,” Hinata mumbles, and Kageyama pretend he didn’t hear it. Then, louder: “Um. Look, can I try something?”

“Uh, sure? You don’t have to be all weird about it.”

“Okay,” Hinata says gravely. “Okay, you gotta close your eyes.”

Kageyama frowns, but complies. It’s not the weirdest thing Hinata’s ever asked of him, so whatever. He can feel Hinata’s gaze on him, heavy and warm, and he shifts uncomfortably. Then Hinata’s hand brushes against Kageyama’s before Hinata turns it over, runs his thumb over Kageyama’s palm, just barely grazing the skin. The sensation—a little ticklish, yet so intimate with the care and delicacy in which Hinata touches him—sends a jolt through his skin, so much more vivid with his eyes closed. Just as gently, Hinata closes his hand over Kageyama’s, intertwining their fingers and making their pulses thrum alongside one another’s.

It’s so much nicer like this, yeah, but there wasn’t really a need for Kageyama to close his eyes if Hinata was just going to hold his hand. They’ve done that already, after all. Kageyama’s about to say as much when he feels Hinata’s pulse jump, speed up a little, as Hinata shifts his weight and lets out a shaky little exhale. “You trust me, right?”

Kageyama has to hold back a sigh. “Duh, idiot. Like I’d even be doing this shit if I didn’t trust you.”

Hinata squeezes his hand a little tighter, maybe unintentionally. “Okay.” His voice hitches a little, but Kageyama can’t tell why. “Okay, actually, why don’t you—why don’t you open your eyes?”

Kageyama has to bite back a snarky comment, but he opens his eyes nonetheless to Hinata staring right at him, making his breath catch in his throat. There’s pure emotion bleeding through Hinata’s gaze, all of his heart in it, so softly teeming with hope, with trust. It’s almost the very same way he looked when Kageyama tossed to him for the first time, but right now, it tugs at Kageyama’s heartstrings like nothing else. Because Hinata hasn’t looked at him like this, so open and heartfelt, for weeks, months, maybe even longer than that—how long has he been carrying around that burden? How long—

Kageyama can’t finish the thought, because Hinata lets go of his hand, instead cupping his cheeks and kissing him hesitantly, lips brushing delicate and shy against his. 

Kageyama’s heart stops. He inhales sharply, and Hinata pulls back, eyes nervously darting away. “Was that—not good?”

In lieu of an answer, Kageyama pulls him right back in, kisses him again. Hinata startles against him before so nicely fisting his hands in the front of Kageyama’s shirt, sighing into the kiss. Kageyama’s heart is racing a mile a minute at the sensation of Hinata’s chapped, dry lips against him, so intimate. As Hinata relaxes, he kisses Kageyama a little deeper, a little sweeter. Maybe unconsciously, he grips Kageyama’s shirt a little tighter, too, like he wants Kageyama even closer—and Kageyama complies, because he wants the very same thing.

When they part, Kageyama takes in Hinata’s red lips, the sound of his breathing, and loves it. “How could that ever not be good? Idiot.”

“I don’t know! You totally freaked out, so I thought—”

“Because I wasn’t expecting it! You have to give someone more warning than that, asshole!”

“Hmph. I gave you more than enough if you would’ve just read the mood.” 

“Don’t be a brat about it,” Kageyama sighs. Hinata must not be that irritated, though, because he scoots a little closer to Kageyama after that, resting his head on Kageyama’s shoulder, the wisps of his hair tickling Kageyama’s neck. 

“You’re so clingy,” Kageyama grunts.

“You like it.”

Kageyama does, and that’s how and why they end up sleeping in the same bed that night, his arm slung across Hinata’s waist, as if Hinata wasn't already flush against him.

It’s—nice. Kageyama can’t think of any other word to describe everything welling up in him. He moves to press a soft, tentative kiss to Hinata’s neck—Hinata shivers in just the right way, mumbles, “Don’t do that, Bakageyama.”

Kageyama hums noncommittally, does it again. This time, a soft little giggle, probably inadvertent, works its way out of Hinata. Kageyama wants to bottle up that sound and hear it again and again. So he pulls Hinata closer, closer, keeps placing those fluttery kisses all over Hinata’s neck. Hinata keeps laughing, breathless, not able to keep the faux irritation in his voice as he whines, “C’mon, Kageyama, that’s enough.”

Eventually, Kageyama does stop, burying his face in Hinata’s neck as he grins wide, unable to help it. Because—this intimacy with Hinata, being able to kiss him freely and hear that laughter, is something he never thought he’d hold in his hands, never thought he’d be able to experience.

As if in acknowledgement, as if in agreement, Hinata takes Kageyama’s hand in his and squeezes it oh-so-softly. Kageyama squeezes Hinata’s hand back and loves the way Hinata’s pulse jumps against his skin, wants to feel it again and again. So he takes his other hand, runs it through the tangled strands of Hinata’s hair. Hinata’s hair is a total mess, all knots and gnarls, but Kageyama works through them gently. Hinata makes this wonderful nose of satisfaction as he does so, relaxing against him, pulse slowing as if in contentment—it’s just as nice.

Kageyama plays with Hinata’s hair until his arm starts hurting. As he falls asleep, he imagines Hinata’s tiny, pleased smile.

/ * \

The first time it happens, it’s an accident. It’s been bouncing around his head for a while now, lying sweet and heavy and tempting on his tongue, a forbidden fruit. Still, it’s unintentional when it slips out: Hinata is being an idiot, as usual, getting food everywhere as he talks with his mouth open. It’s disgusting. Kageyama calls him out on it: “Stop being so gross, Shouyou. Can’t you close your mouth when you eat like everyone else?”

Kageyama doesn’t realize what he’s said until Hinata freezes. Hinata swallows, blush spreading up his face so beautifully. “You—you can’t just call me that out of nowhere!”

Kageyama scowls. “It’s not like I meant to, idiot.”

“You totally did! You wouldn’t just say that for no reason!” Hinata matches his scowl petulantly, but it’s more cute than it is threatening.

“Shut up,” Kageyama mumbles. “I won’t do it again if you dislike it so much.”

“I never said _that_.” Hinata glances away. “You can, you know, keep doing it. If you want.”

So Kageyama does it again, softly, tasting how the name sounds on his tongue. Looking back at him, Hinata whines, “Ugh, don’t be all weird and creepy about it.”

“You’re an idiot, Shouyou.” Kageyama can’t help the smirk that rises to his face. 

“Stop it! You know what I meant!”

Kageyama hums. “We’re going to make it to the top together, Shouyou.”

Hinata blushes a little bit harder as he nods emphatically, excitement obviously fizzling through him. “Yeah.” Then, after a tiny pause, hesitantly: “We definitely will, Tobio.”

Kageyama’s heart skips a beat. His smile is shaky and small, wobbling with the intensity of it, and so is Hinata’s.

/ * \

Hinata gets this doubtful look on his face sometimes, one that Kageyama hates, but he sees it less often as the months go by. Similarly, Hinata begins to startle less and less, instead leaning more and more into Kageyama’s touch, be it his fingers in Hinata’s hair or his arm slung around Hinata. Like it’s safe and comforting, not a terrifying unknown. Like he knows he deserves it, that it’s okay, that it’s right.

Kageyama is proud of him, prouder than he’s ever been, even if he can’t quite make those words come out.

That’s not to say that Hinata doesn’t ever have days where he cringes away from Kageyama’s touch entirely, days where he can barely look at Kageyama without the anxiety evidently overwhelming him. But—he’s moving forward, gradually becoming assured of himself.

And, eventually, in the dark of Kageyama’s room, he says it. In a hush, like a secret for only the two of them: “I love you, Tobio.”

Kageyama squeezes him close, burying his face in Hinata’s neck, Hinata’s heart beating furiously in time with Kageyama’s. And Kageyama whispers it back again, again, and again, until it must be irrevocably imprinted on Hinata’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> big thanks to selina for commissioning this!! i really enjoyed working with you! ;v;
> 
> i would also like to thank [mar](https://twitter.com/puddlehope) for betaing this fic!! thanks so much for the time and effort you put into this!! ily!
> 
> please feel free to leave a comment, concrit or otherwise, or hmu on twitter [@hhatsunetsu](https://twitter.com/hhatsunetsu)! i would love to chat with you ;v; have a great day and thanks again for reading!!


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